Back at the manor, Kurzon hurls an FBOD into Cole's chest. Cole retaliates with one of his own. Kurzon squiggles out, and the SFBOD vanquishes a couple of plants. Phrances helps Cole to his feet as Kurzon squiggles back in behind Cole with a sword. Kurzon unhinges his jaw and screams, barreling directly towards Cole. Phrances scoots Cole around and takes the sword right in her back. Dude. He just skewered an old lady. That is so unnecessary. Cole eases Phrances to the floor, then engages in some hand-to-hand combat with Kurzon. Piper, Phoebe, and Raige orb into the parlor and rush to recite the Kurzon vanquish:
Hell threw you from its inner core,
But Earth won't hold you any more;
Since Heaven cannot be your place,
Your flesh and blood we now erase.
I liked the haiku better.
Kurzon -- all together now -- howls and wails and blazes on down to Hell. Or wherever. Like I give a rat's ass about his disposition by this point. Phoebe finally notices Phrances groaning in pain on the floor. She cradles Phrances's head in her lap and calls for the Dolt. "She saved me," Cole says, more than a bit upset at this development. "There's your answer," Phrances whispers to Phoebe. Looks Of Concern all around. The Dolt orbs in with Phoebette and kneels to administer the Whitelighter tingly touch. It's no good -- Phrances is already dead. Cole looks like he's about to cry. Either that, or the cat dander is really bothering his eyes. Phrances's body vanishes, followed shortly by Phoebette. Piper guesses that the dual disappearance is because "the spell played itself out; [Phoebe] heard what [she] needed to hear." Phoebe glances up at Cole. Cole sheepishly averts his eyes.
Kitchen. Aftermath and Weekly Summation. Raige asks the Dolt how long it will be before she gets a chance to orb up to Whitelighterland. The Dolt counsels patience. Raige then wonders if Phoebe is destined to die at the age of eighty-four by having some pretty, vapid lunkhead run a sword through her gut. Piper and the Dolt remind her that the future is not etched in stone. Raige then inquires as to Phoebette -- won't her knowledge of the future cause complications? Piper's certain that Grams will cast a spell to erase Phoebette's memory as soon as she starts babbling about time traveling and orbing and the Dolt and whatnot. "That's nice," snarks Raige. "That's Grams," reminds Piper. Raige heads off to bed, but not before she announces that she's turning down the promotion in favor of giving Mulleted Scott the opportunity he deserves. Piper and the Dolt congratulate her on coming up with such a practical solution to her personal-gain issue. Whatever. It never was an issue in the first place, and I don't really care anyway.